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Falling...falling...falling….
For most of the fall he'd let his anger take him. Sorry, they'd be sorry. He'd be dead and they'd be sorry they hadn't respected him. He'd be dead and they'd be sorry they hadn't heeded his wisdom. He'd be dead and they'd be sorry. He'd be dead. He'd be…
He saw the surface a longer way up than he'd expected. He twisted, thinking if he could hit head first it would at least be a fast death. It wasn't until he almost hit that he realized he was going into water.
Water he could survive. He was Loki. He was Jotun. He was born to frozen water. He braced himself for the cold, and when he didn't feel it he was briefly distracted. Then he realized he was protected by his heritage. Mundane ice could never freeze him.
His fall continued, the speed he'd bult up while falling through the air carrying him down, past the base of an iceberg, within view of others like it. Below the last one, he saw more water.
He had no idea which of the Nine Realms he had fallen to. Then he spotted something metallic off to his...left? He swam as best he could, unable to shake off his cloak which was creating drag around him and slowing him down. When he got closer to the object, he saw by its markings that it was of Midgardian origin. He snorted, then grinned when he did not choke on inhaled water. The irony was not lost on him. His brother had learned to love this realm, and now here he was, still a god and poised to survive this fall.
The ship (for such it must be) was oddly shaped, almost batlike. He had seen the lovely flying creatures while on his astral visit to Earth and he appreciated the symmetry of the gentle v-shape. It was obviously damaged, the glass in the front compartment cracking under the sea's pressure.
It must not have been here long. He had by now slowed enough to allow him to circle the ship, studying it. There was a man, a human, in the front, but he was unconscious and would probably soon be dead if the crack allowed enough water in.
He sensed it before he saw the faint blue glow. There! Beyond the tip of a wing, there was the sacred object. Stolen from his father's...no, his step-father's, his fraud of a father's...treasure room, it had found its way here to Midgard. Loki laughed soundlessly. He swam toward it, and as he got closer he realized it was keeping him alive. He grabbed for it and upon touching it, felt a surge of strength and renewed purpose.
In joy, he reached beneath the ship and heaved. The strength from the tesseract seemed immeasurable. The ship came loose from the rocks at the ocean's bottom. A lot of fish may have the watery equivalent of nightmares from the ship coming down then flying back out in one day, but Loki felt celebratory. He jumped, following the ship to the surface.
The ship had landed on a solid surface, a bit of Earth that extended into the Arctic Ocean. He ignored it. The pilot was probably dead already. Any interest he might have had in the object would have died with him. Loki held the blue light-filled object to his heart and began to hurry along the land.
Lord of Mischief, Son of a Frost Giant, god with too much self-confidence for the slippery surface, he slipped. Flailing at the unexpected rush of ground to his bottom, he lost his grip on the object. He watched in dismay as it flew away from him, then, almost as if it had a mind of its own, it turned and sailed away over the ocean again. He heard the splash as it reentered the water.
He searched for what felt like hours but couldn't locate it. As the sun started to rise over the cold morning, he cursed and swore he would return for it. He spun in place, pulling his magic to him from throughout the surrounding planet. For a moment he was in two places at once, Earth's Arctic and Jotunheim. He threw himself towards the latter, revenge in his heart.
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Loki would have his revenge, oh, yes, he would have his revenge. On Thor, on Midgard, on anyone he imagined had slighted him. He would have his throne and he would have his revenge.
The sacred blue gem had, of course, been found by someone on Earth. Pitiful small minded creatures, no idea of the great power they held in their pathetic little laboratory. Power source. Pah! He, Loki, would make it the cornerstone of his life's work. With it he would rule his step-brother's -- nay, his foster brother, his overlord, his enslaver -- beloved Midgard. He had only to find the help of a few who were more power hungry than he.
Loki wished for power, yes, for a throne and for subjects. But he was not insane. No, he wished only to be as his father -- nay, his kidnapper -- had been. He wished to rule. He would rule well. He would be benevolent. His people would love him. He would SHOW THEM ALL.
It was good that the staff he had been granted by his benefactor was powerful because the minds he bent to his will were not all as weak as he had expected. The scientist was strong of mind and heart but also he had the ancestral belief in Loki's own mythos working against him. The agent, though, had taken a few extra pushes to subjugate.
As a result, seeing the arrow pointing at him and the hate filled eyes beneath the unkempt blond hair was no surprise to him. He lay on the floor of Stark's nearly ruined penthouse and gazed up at those who had defeated him. Earth's heroes were strong, he realized. He had misjudged. He had expected his magic and his mystery to enthrall, mollify them all after the destruction died down. He would have to rethink his approach.
Stark, he understood, or thought he did. A man who had done evil and wanted to atone. Loki would have to give it some thought, but he was already weaving a plan to manipulate that one. The woman he would need to be extra careful with. She was every bit the mistress of manipulation and he knew in that arena she was his equal. He needed a different approach. He noted her affectionate and concerned looks for the archer and filed it away for later consideration. The archer himself was at present a lost cause. He would need something new, possibly involving the woman, to bring him around. The giant green monster, that was easy. Let him think he was the strongest of all and he would be happy. The small but brilliant man within him could be distracted with bright baubles of science.
The other man had an oddly familiar feel. It took him a moment to place it. The tall blond in the red, white, and blue outfit had been touched by the blue light once. Loki wondered how that might have happened.
As his brother -- yes his brother -- glared, Loki looked closer at the man who felt familiar. It hit him like he had once hit the sea. Damn.
He should have made sure the damn pilot was really dead.
"If it's all the same to you," he said carefully, "I believe I'll have that drink now."